Kissing it Better
by LNicol1990
Summary: All it takes is one cut and everything changes. One-shot. Merlin/Arthur. Not suitable for younger readers.


Author's note: Okay, I've never done _**any**_ kind of _**romance**_before, and I'm not sure how well I pulled it off. So... how'd I do?

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Arthur.

* * *

Kissing it better

Arthur knocked on the door of the physician's study. Hopefully the old man was there and could see to him and he could be out of there before anyone noticed. He pushed the door ajar slightly, peering into the gloom.

It was only Merlin. His servant appeared to be cleaning something up by the fireplace. Arthur could hear tinkling sounds, so it probably meant something was broken.

He was glad to notice that the young man hadn't noticed him, and began to withdraw when–

"Arthur?" Merlin's head snapped in his direction, sounding surprised.

Arthur sighed. He knew that he couldn't hide from this now. As he walked in, he saw Merlin looking to window. He obviously thought he was in trouble for being late for something.

"I'm so sorry," he apologised. "I… didn't realise the time."

"Merlin, relax," Arthur commanded his servant gently. "You haven't missed something," he assured, seeing relief spread through Merlin's face.

Merlin sighed, relaxing. He then turned around and returned to the fireplace. He was picking up pieces of broken crockery. Some other material that Arthur could not identify was also covering the flagstones. He reasoned that it was probably some medicinal concoction.

"What happened?" Arthur asked, knowing that it was the safest question.

"Uhhh… I was cooking something for dinner," Merlin admitted. "It wasn't meant to break the bowl."

Arthur fought the smile that threatened to plaster itself on his face. He had wondered why Gaius had told him not to let Merlin cook for him, now he knew why.

"So, what can I do for you, sire?" Merlin asked, looking up at Arthur from the ground.

"Uh, it's nothing," Arthur waved his hand about dismissively. "It can wait until Gaius returns."

"He's tending to a sick child down in the town," Merlin informed. "I think he'll be gone all night."

"Damn it," Arthur mumbled.

"Can I help at all?" Merlin offered, a somewhat hurt look was on his face. "Or is this something only Gaius could sort out?"

Arthur gazed down at Merlin, contemplating. Eventually, he shrugged his shoulders.

"It's just a cut on my arm. I wouldn't usually come, but… it looks a little deep," Arthur explained casually.

"Well, take a seat," Merlin gestured to the table, rising from the floor. "I'll get some warm water and healing tonic."

Arthur took a deep breath in and did as he was instructed. He knew that Merlin was being trained to have some medical knowledge by Gaius. And if he was confident about his skills, which he sounded, he wouldn't have any trouble with the injury.

As Merlin returned with the water and healing tonic, Arthur pushed up the left sleeve of his tunic. A long gash ran up his inner arm from his wrist to his elbow. It wasn't too deep, but it was definitely going to leave a scar. Also, the cut was very clean, very sharp.

"What happened?!" Merlin demanded, concern laced every word.

"I was cleaning my sword, and I wasn't paying enough attention," Arthur explained quickly.

He explained too quickly for Merlin's liking. Arthur was hiding something. But Merlin knew he had no right to ask, and allowed the suspicion lie.

Merlin proceeded to wet a clean cloth and ring out the excess water. He placed the cloth at Arthur's elbow and wiped down the cut, very gently. He wiped away the drying blood. As he gently scrubbed the scabbing to leave a cleaner, neater scar, Merlin observed the prince's smooth arm.

There were tiny scars all over Arthur's arm. They ran over the prince's skin like a cobweb. The further down he looked, Merlin could see that there were scars on Arthur's hand as well. He shot a look across to the other arm, wondering.

Arthur did not miss the look and promptly moved his right arm from resting on his leg to hanging by his side, turning his inner arm away. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Where did all these come from?" Merlin asked, frowning in concern. "Cleaning your sword?"

"With all my life practising, you'd think I could clean my sword," he joked half-heartedly.

Merlin's frown deepened. He said nothing but returned his gaze to Arthur's arm. He carefully ran his fingers across the scars, noting how recent some of them looked… and how old others were. Some, he realised with shock, were probably two or more years old.

"How long has this been going on?" he whispered, unable to bring his eyes up or muster the strength in his voice.

Arthur pulled his arm out of Merlin's hands, positioning it to his chest. He looked away, casting his sight anywhere but at his servant's horrified expression, or his mutilated arm.

Merlin looked away, placing the bloody cloth back in the bowl of water and pushing it aside. He reached for a clean cloth and, placing it over the lip of a bottle, dabbed it with healing tonic. He kept his eyes firmly on the task, but could feel Arthur watching him from the corner of his eyes. When he had to, he faced Arthur, cloth in one hand and held out the other. He was silently requesting for the arm to be returned.

Arthur looked dubiously at the cloth before conceding and lowering his arm again. As the tonic filled cloth touched the open wound, Arthur hissed through his teeth. He knew that Merlin was being gentle about this, but he couldn't deny that it hurt.

"Tell me," Merlin asked casually. "What could possibly be troubling the great Prince of Camelot?"

Arthur laughed humourlessly. Merlin wasn't sure what he'd just said, but he felt that he'd struck the right cord.

"Prince of Camelot…" Arthur spat. "That's all I am, isn't it?"

Merlin stared at Arthur, surprised by what he'd just heard.

"That's all I am. To the people… to the servants… to the guards, the knights… even my father! I'm just the Prince of Camelot! I'm nothing else…" he whispered the last part, sad to speak. "No one sees me as anything, except the Prince of Camelot."

Arthur looked down, staring past his knees. His eyes were miserable and distant. He didn't meet Merlin's confused, shocked expression.

Merlin stared at his master for a moment, and then down at the arm he was tending. He suddenly felt like he understood what Arthur meant. To be strong, to show no weakness, to be what everyone want you to be, and to have no time to be yourself… it was a heavy burden and a difficult life. And Merlin understood that much better than Arthur would ever know.

Merlin looked over to the door. It was a good idea if no one saw Arthur this way, knew what really went on in their prince's head. As he knew that Arthur wasn't looking, he willed the door to close silently and bolt itself.

Forgetting the cut, since he had finished dressing it, he turned back to the sorrowful young man beside him. He quietly slid off his seat and knelt before Arthur, angling his head slightly so Arthur could see him.

"I don't see you as the prince," he admitted.

"Then what do you see me as?" Arthur asked quietly, incredulously.

Merlin allowed his eyes to wonder to beyond Arthur's shoulder as he thought of the answer. He wondered how he could possibly explain himself. But, try as he might, he could not find the words.

"I don't know how to explain it," he admitted.

"Because you were only trying to make me feel better," Arthur guessed. "I appreciate it, but I prefer honesty from you, Merlin."

Arthur looked away. Staring into the fire, he could see the remnants of Merlin's attempt to cook himself dinner. Somehow, the idea suited Merlin perfectly.

Then, a slight warmth pressed itself lightly against his thigh. It was a gentle warmth and it reminded him of the time when he was a boy. He had found a fledgling magpie one day and had taken it home. Whilst it slept on his thigh, it too had that same gentle warmth to it. Of course, his father had found the bird and Arthur never saw it again.

He looked down to see Merlin staring up at him, his expression wary, with his cheek resting on Arthur's leg. The wary look… it was uncertainty. Merlin either didn't know what he was doing or how far he should go… or both.

Merlin, his eyes still firmly on Arthur's face, as guarded as his own, slowly moved and very slowly, hesitantly… he brushed his lips over Arthur's fingers. It was the lightest of kisses, a butterfly's kiss, but it was filled with devotion and something Arthur had never known before. Merlin's touch sent shivers up Arthur's arm.

Unknowingly, Arthur tuned his hand over. Hundreds of tiny scars shone from his palm and fingers. Suddenly, they all seemed to begging for someone to touch them, to take away the sting that had caused them. They all wanted to heal.

As if Merlin could hear, he rose slightly and, just as carefully and as gently as before, he kissed Arthur's wrist. He felt a thrill race down to his stomach when he felt Arthur's palm cup his chin lightly, his fingers gently caressing his jaw.

Then, very carefully, Merlin inched up Arthur's arm, stopping in the middle of the wound that had brought Arthur here. He could scarcely breathe, but he lightly, oh so lightly, kissed the skin. He could taste the salt of Arthur's blood on his lips and tongue.

Seeing that he was probably pushing his luck, Merlin slowly withdrew. He regained eye contact with Arthur and he sat back on his heels. He waited. He began to berate himself for doing this. It was unfair to make Arthur choose. Either choice was devastating, and could possibly the cause of his downfall, something Merlin was trying to prevent.

Arthur stared at him. He couldn't tell if it was shock, hope, or something else that Merlin didn't know how to describe, in Arthur's eyes. He looked so young, in that moment, so naïve and not understanding.

Then Arthur winced, and raised his right hand to massage the left hand side of his neck. He looked away for a moment, before returning his eyes to Merlin. He looked almost timid… and hopeful.

Picking up the hint, Merlin stood and leaned over to Arthur. He could see the area that looked tensest, and he pressed his lips down, firmer and more confident than when he had kissed the mutilated hand and arm.

Merlin's lips were so soft. He could feel them moulding to the contours where his neck became his shoulder. The warmth seeped through all the aches and pains he felt, both in his body and in his heart. He felt his stomach flip, his heart began to race and his breath caught in his chest, refusing to be exhaled or inhaled. His head began to tingle and he could not prevent his eyes from closing. The darkness seemed to be inviting, rather than suffocating.

"Arthur…" Merlin whispered, his warm breath caressing the cold skin of Arthur's shoulder.

Arthur finally started to breathe again, but found that he could not, would not, willing open his eyes. He redirected his head slightly towards Merlin, to prove that he was listening. He suddenly felt fingers caressing his right arm lovingly, careful not to brush the open wound.

"Never again, do you hear me?" Merlin commanded softly, his hand still stroking Arthur's arm. "Never again."

Arthur knew instantly what Merlin was saying. Never again would he have another mishap whilst cleaning his sword. Never again would he force himself to bleed. Never again.

He nodded, feeling the warmth of Merlin's cheek beside his own. For this person, he would agree to anything, and the price was so easy to pay.

"Never again," he promised, his words leaving him in little more than a whisper.

His eyes opened as Merlin's warmth began to retreat. He found himself gazing into a pair of ocean deep eyes, which were staring back at him with pure adoration. Those eyes searched his face until they stopped. They were looking at something that was just below Arthur's eyes.

Merlin's hand rose silently and he softly brushed one finger down Arthur's cheek. He was tracing a small cut that Arthur had received earlier that day.

Arthur saw his eyes close involuntarily. He felt the warmth of Merlin's breath, Merlin's skin come closer and closer. When his soft lips finally touched, he could feel his own skin moving, moulding to fit Merlin's lips, as Merlin's lips moulded to fit his skin.

Then he flinched and gasped in pain. Salt entered Arthur's mouth and as he moved his hand away from his own lips, he saw that his fingertips glistened with his blood. He hadn't noticed that he had been chewing his lip, until he had clamped down and bitten himself.

Then, he turned fearfully back to Merlin. He was afraid that his swift movements had broken this spell they both seemed to be under, and that Merlin had returned to his seat, embarrassed by what he had done.

But Merlin was still there, merely an inch from his face. He looked concerned, and seeing the blood beginning to trickle down Arthur's lip and face, he looked into the others eyes, waiting, hoping for acceptance, for permission to continue.

Somehow knowing what Merlin was waiting for, Arthur turned his head so he faced Merlin, his mouth in line with Merlin's, their noses almost touching. He waited patiently. He waited for Merlin to come and kiss his lips better.

After a moment, Merlin angled his head slightly, only slightly, and tenderly connected his lips to Arthur's. Both of them closed saw each other close their eyes, focusing only the warmth, the softness of the other's lips, and how they seemed to merge together seamlessly, effortlessly.

When Merlin began to move back, Arthur moved forward, kissing just as tenderly as Merlin had. Both seemed afraid that anything else would break the moment and ruin it forever. After a pause, they kissed a third time, before Merlin moved his head slightly, so that their noses touched side to side and their foreheads rested upon the other.

They were still for a moment and then Merlin moved away. He slowly sat back down in his chair and Arthur remembered how to breathe. He inhaled deeply and exhaled calmly.

He turned his eyes to Merlin, who was watching him intently for a moment, before turning down to look at Arthur's arm, dabbing it with more healing tonic and wrapping it in clean linen, not that Arthur could feel a thing: he felt way too damn high.

"I see what you meant… about not being able to explain," he whispered breathlessly, before clearing his throat.

"Now you know," Merlin smiled warmly, his eyes watching Arthur adoringly. "You're not just the Prince of Camelot."

"Not to you," Arthur agreed.

Merlin's eyes suddenly lifted upwards into the rafters. They grew wide with surprise, so much that Arthur turned his head to see what had happened. It was almost twilight, and that meant that tonight's banquet was soon to begin.

"I guess we'd better get you ready," Merlin announced, getting to his feet.

Arthur stood as well, although he felt no desire to dine with the fools who thought that he was just the Prince of Camelot. They walked silently to the door until…

"Arthur? Will you promise me one thing?" Merlin asked, looking down at Arthur's bandaged arm.

"Never again," he promised.


End file.
